


better off as lovers

by upallnightstrungtight



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6743989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donghae wants to win Ryeowook’s heart - and it’s not because Henry does too. The hard part is figuring out how to do that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and not the other way around

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [1+1+1=Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6439837) by [datajinx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/datajinx/pseuds/datajinx). 



> Thank you so, so much to a great friend for giving me permission to post this! It started out as a sort-of-remix, but I think it's veered off too far to quite be called that. I hope it's not so bad as to make you regret it! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating is for chapter 2. Chapter 1 is rated M.

Donghae rolls off of Henry, both of them panting, sticky and sated. He needed that a lot; there’ve been some recent developments that have… frustrated him. While he’s still in a good mood, pulling off the condom and tying it off, he gives in to the impulse to spill the thoughts looping in his head as he tosses it into the bin. "I need to talk to you.” Henry makes some sort of agreeing hum, or some sort of hum, at least. Good enough. “About Ryeowook-" Like magic, Henry’s eyes pop open as he cuts Donghae off mid-sentence.

“I know.” Wow, that was easy. "I'm not being obvious enough." Never mind.

While Henry sighs dramatically, Donghae turns the words over for a second, squinting one eye closed as he does. Not what he was expecting, but he'll let Henry say his piece first. Why not? Less letting and more being thrown off script, if he’s being honest with himself, but he's feeling generous, mixed with frayed nerves. This is the first time he’s going to talk about this out loud. It already feels a little bit harder to breathe. He shuffles around until his head and right shoulder aren’t hanging off the edge of the bed anymore.

"I was trying to not make things weird, but I don't think he knows I like him at all,” Henry says, looking perplexed but not all that upset. Donghae’s shocked speechless. This can’t be what’s actually happening. He’s not hearing this. No way. "He likes those scented candles, right?” Henry continues, unconcerned. “So do you think he likes flowers? Maybe flowers will get the message across. But would that be too weird?"

Now Henry’s looking at him with confusion, head tilted; Donghae’s face must be showing his bewilderment and he finally noticed. "What? We," Henry waves between Donghae and himself three times with his fingers fanned out, "we're just having sex, right? We're not dating. And he’s fair game now."

"No, it’s not that... It's just..." Donghae purses his lips and gathers himself back together from the far-flung corners that the pieces of his grip on his composure flew into. Or his sense of control over his life. Something big like that. His mind's stuck on a skipping record of _nononononono_ , with no off switch in sight. Awkward sympathy, being made fun of, indifference, ridiculous schemes to try to help - really, he was prepared for anything but _this_. So casually, too, as if Henry doesn’t know that that’s the worst possible thing he could say.

Oh. Right. He doesn’t. Not yet.

"...Hyung?" Oops. Donghae didn’t realize he went silent too long again.

"I think I'm in love with him." There, the words came out of his mouth. He’s told _someone_. Possibly the worst person to tell, but at least it’s not trapped in a tight knot in his chest anymore.

"Right, that- What?!" Henry bolts upright. His eyebrows draw together, his eyes widen, and this is not at all according to plan. Donghae wasn’t expecting competition; Henry probably wasn’t either. Certainly not from each other.

“Exactly,” Donghae says with a sigh. This was already… not ideal. Now, it’s downright complicated.

Henry wipes his hand over his face, followed by a long exhale. Then he perks up, which is much more worrying. Making that one expression that always comes right before a bad idea, he holds up his index finger, the rest curled into a loose fist.

“No, wait, look, it’s simple,” he says as he jabs said index finger in the air. “We both flirt with him and see who he likes.” As he says this, he holds his hands out, palms up, then moves them apart horizontally, nodding to himself and making a face that says, _See? You know I’m right._

In all the time they’ve known each other, Henry’s self-assurance has never been so bewildering as it is at this moment. More than his gestures, even. Especially without pants. Donghae’s getting distracted, so he forces his mind back to mulling over Henry’s proposal. _Simple_ , he thinks. _Simple? No, it’s really not._ “You know it might be neither, right?” He asks. It’s a big downside, he knows it is, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to agree anyway. Completely sure, on second thought, when Henry smirks at him.

“Sure, sure. Not very confident, huh.” Henry pats his shoulder with an overwrought sympathetic expression. “It’s okay. He’s always liked me better.” The glint of a challenge shines in his eyes. Donghae glares at him. If it’s a contest Henry wants, then that’s what he’ll get.

“Fine. We’ll see. Don’t act like you’ve won already.” Donghae breathes in deeply, then breathes out with only a little shaking. “Now can I talk about my feelings yet, or are we not allowed to because we’re rivals?”

“Hmmm. Rivals, huh…” Henry pauses, tipping his head to the side. “It’s okay,” he says, turning upright again with his usual grin - that really hot one that keeps getting Donghae into trouble. That’s not going to change anytime soon. “You can talk,” Henry continues as he straddles Donghae’s hips. “As long as talking’s not all we’re doing.”

At last, Donghae can feel a smile stretching his mouth. “Deal.”

*

Rehearsal wasn’t a good place to start, the way he saw it, but then again, he’d never seen Henry show much restraint when he was caught up in one of his ideas. A lot like a certain someone else, in fact…

They only have about ten or twenty minutes for a break for snacks and water. (It was one of those, Donghae’s sure of it, but he was- preoccupied.) Henry waved off the offers from the others to tag along, insisting that he’s fine and wants to keep practicing something. Someone joked about the world ending. (He forgot who. Again, preoccupied.) A little worryingly, Ryeowook said he wasn’t hungry. Hmph. Not hungry for _food_ , maybe. Donghae doesn’t want to leave them alone, hackles still raised about this whole... situation, but his stomach is insisting otherwise. In a fit of desperation, he crouches down to search the too-many pockets of his jacket.

Luck is on his side! There's something crinkling in one, and while it doesn't look too great when he peeks inside the bag, full of small broken pieces, it tastes fine.

The spin Henry does looks the same as before Donghae had gone searching. Standing far away enough to avoid getting hit in the face (or worse- no, he’d be maddest about the face), Ryeowook’s watching this display way too intently for Donghae’s comfort. Henry repeats the same move two more times before he stops, then smoothly grabs a water bottle off the floor, throwing it so that it flips through the air and catching it while it’s upside down. He brandishes it like a sword in some sort of backhanded grip, holding it out in offering.

Ryeowook actually _giggles_ as he takes the plastic bottle and unscrews the cap. He’s still smiling around the mouth of the bottle when he takes a sip, quickly twisting the cap closed again. The bag crinkles and crunches harder. Donghae didn’t mean to do that, can’t remember if this had ever bothered him as much as it does now. Didn’t he used to be happy to see them having fun together? Maybe a long time ago…

“Hyung,” Henry says, licking his lips, and in the pause, Donghae could swear that he can see a touch of heat in Ryeowook’s eyes. “Your thighs are really thick.”

Henry’s good at a lot of things, but he can be surprisingly bad at talking. Now, Ryeowook’s incensed instead, eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to say?” He says through gritted teeth, sending loud, blaring danger signals with his whole body. Anyone else would’ve had burst eardrums by now.

“I’m saying they’re incredible.” Is that supposed to be a seductive voice? Not for the first time, Donghae wonders how Henry’s survived this long.

“That’s not funny,” Ryeowook huffs, turning a couple of shades more crimson, noticeably closer to his hair color than a few seconds ago. He shoves the bottle at Henry’s chest before stomping off. It seems like Henry grabs it by reflex, since he looks too baffled to have managed that on purpose, looking down at it in his hand as if it could offer him answers to life’s great mysteries. Donghae crunches away, though with his teeth this time, not quite amused, not quite worried. Not sure of much of anything yet with this turn of events.

Inevitably, Henry spots him once he’s paying attention again and goes over to him. Oh no, he’s got the puppy eyes out. _Now_ Donghae wishes he’d left after all.

“I don’t understand. What did I do?” Too bad for Henry that Donghae’s practically immune to the puppy eyes. He scoffs and smacks Henry’s head. “Ow!”

“What the hell was _that_? You _suck_ at flirting. You know he’s sensitive about that sort of thing!”

Henry whines and rubs at his head. “Sensitive? What do you-“ He freezes. “Oh shit. Oh, _fuck,_ ” he groans, running his hand through his hair, then grimacing at it as if he didn’t expect it to be sweaty. “Well fuck me sideways,” he mutters, wiping his hand on his pant leg.

Donghae had thought his English was getting better, but Henry sounded angry and this was a strange time to make requests like that. He shrugs. It’s not the worst idea by far. “Sure, if that’s what you want later, but you should apologize first. You know how he gets when he’s mad,” Donghae says, _and I’m the one who’ll have to deal with that at home, not you,_ he adds in his head.

Henry looks at him, snorts out a laugh, and walks off without another word, shaking his head. He sits on the floor in the corner closest to the door, catching Donghae’s eye between long drinks of water to laugh silently, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

 _Maybe I misunderstood. Oh well._ Doesn’t matter that much, even if Henry always looks really good sweaty and laughing. Sitting back down across from him, Donghae shakes the last bits from the bag into his mouth. He gulps down half a bottle of water too quickly because he can hear a jumble of yelling and laughter coming closer, getting a coughing fit for his troubles. More water fixes it, which never made any sense - it's what caused the trouble, so how come it helps, too?

Once Ryeowook files back in with the rest of the group, Henry zooms to his side. Looks like he’s forgiven just as easily as ever. An apology, by the look of it, a few words - Henry’s idea of speaking quietly doesn’t quite match everyone else’s, and Donghae thinks he catches something with “strong” in it while he’s trying to look like he’s not paying attention - and one of those cute faces was all it took. _Of course,_ he thinks with resignation. He can admit that one of Henry’s better qualities is that he’s much quicker to apologize than either of them, but that’s a thought he’ll keep to himself.

Then, Ryeowook teases Henry about his blunder, swatting his arm, and off they go. Still, the important part is that Ryeowook looks happy again. Tired, but happy.

All in all, Donghae shouldn’t be so surprised that he doesn’t feel a whole lot better.

*

It’s just some show, another one with an annoyingly long wait due to some minor mishap, but Ryeowook turns it into something else entirely. There's friendly, and then there's this, this light touch over his knuckles, up his arm and along his shoulder, down his spine, barely-there contact that makes him shiver. Desire rears up, squeezing his insides and his mind into mush. How he got this gift, this agony, from smiling at Ryeowook, adoring as it may have been, before looking at everyone running around again, he might never know. Right now, he doesn’t know anything.

When his wonderful torment ends, Ryeowook casually leans against Donghae's arm, easy and sweet. Like he belongs there. Donghae wraps his arm over Ryeowook's upper back and just below the curve of his shoulder. There’s no sign that he has any idea of the effect he has, but even this quiet togetherness is really great. And coming to keep him company in the first place is great, too.

Donghae kind of wants to cry. He’s not up for being teased about it right now, and also, makeup, so he stares ahead at nothing, stares and stares and stares so that he doesn’t.

*

As soon as the door swings back far enough, Donghae’s greeted with Henry’s smirk. There’s nothing else as he steps back to let him in, not even a greeting. Henry can be insufferable sometimes. “Don’t give me that attitude,” Donghae says as he takes off his shoes.

“I didn’t say anything,” Henry says, sounding way too amused as he pulls off his shirt. He throws it over his shoulder, walking in the direction of his bedroom. Smug bastard’s even whistling.

Reluctantly, or at least more than before, and glaring at his back, Donghae follows him. “You’re assuming I’m here for sex? How arrogant.” It’s a sad attempt at salvaging his dignity, and he knows it, too.

Henry laughs. “Am I wrong? it’s almost midnight, you know.” And there’s that stupid smirk again, looking back at him.

Donghae remembers what drove him here in the first place, so he decides to drop it. Tempted as he is to walk right back out, he instead jumps onto the bed, settling down after a bounce and a few rounds of kicking his feet while he sits on the edge. “…Fine. No. It’s just.” Tension runs through him at what _should_ be a mild sensation from memory, almost reliving it. He closes his eyes for a second, can’t stop a groan from escaping. “The way he was touching me, you don’t _understand_.”

“Aw, is someone having a hard time?” Henry coos at him.

 _Fucking. Insufferable._ Rolling his eyes, Donghae decides against saying anything, instead throwing himself onto his back. Harder than necessary, because he was already on the bed, but he takes that in stride, motioning for Henry to come over to him, pulling him down as soon as he’s within reach. “Will you just fuck me already?”

“When you put it so nicely,” Henry mutters. Still, his hand’s already gliding over Donghae’s abdomen, too light to do anything but tease. He leans in closer. “But I do understand. You get the best things when you let him come to you,” Henry murmurs into Donghae’s ear, rucking his shirt up to his ribs, gently rolling his nipple between thumb and forefinger, mouth sliding hot over his neck while the other hand works on the button of his jeans.

*

Donghae sneaks back in later, needing the comfort of his own room to fall asleep.

*

Not yet feeling fully awake, he ambles towards the front door, but Ryeowook easily gets there first, since he’s not going at a snail’s pace. (Donghae never seems to quite feel awake lately.) He hears Ryeowook’s bright voice before anything comes into clear view.

“You're early! Why'd you bring flowers?”

 _Can’t say he’s not dedicated to his ideas_ , Donghae thinks as he takes in the scene before him _._ Henry’s smile is huge, though his hand’s a bit shaky as he says, “They're for you.”

“Hold on a second,” Ryeowook says, looking distracted, and dashes off. Donghae watches Henry wilt, the bouquet shaking as he drops his arm far enough to make it audibly rustle, and almost feels sorry for him. He wonders if he should stop lurking, but he's rooted to the spot, his limbs unwilling to move.

When Ryeowook comes back, he's triumphantly holding a vase over his head. It’s a clunky object of thick clear plastic that he maneuvers under the tap, pouring some water into it before setting it down and taking the flowers from Henry, immediately turning around to place them inside. "But, what are these for? It's not my birthday," he says, sweet as honey.

That specific tone is one that Donghae's only ever heard Ryeowook use with Henry, high and affectionate with a tendril of possessive slinking underneath. Curiosity loses; he can't take another second of this. It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s coming next.

*

“Hyung, what should we order for dinner?” Ryeowook asks, looking at Donghae over his shoulder, one curled finger pressed against his chin. _How is he so adorable when he isn’t doing anything?!_

“Anything you want,” Donghae blurts out. His instinct says _go with it._ “Anything at all. Ever.” He aims a toothy smile at Ryeowook, one that’s won him lots of melted hearts. Among other things.

Not this specific heart, though. Ryeowook only laughs, as immune to his charms as ever. “You’re so kind. I’ll just pick something.”

Donghae is _not_ embarrassed and hiding in his room. He really does have a lot to catch up on. Nothing to do with Ryeowook at _all_.

*

Metal grazes Donghae’s lips, again and again, and Ryeowook’s thumb, just once, to wipe something off, he doesn’t care what, it was- he wants it back. He doesn’t consider objecting to Ryeowook feeding him for a single moment because his hand is _so close_ , and not for the first time, Donghae has the urge to thoroughly explore Ryeowook’s body using only his mouth, make a game of keeping that the only point of contact between them through frustrated whimpers- _Oh no, I zoned out again. I’m hopeless._

The metal will have to do for now, since it’s all he’s getting. He might be using his tongue more energetically than necessary, considering his previous successes, though those were with others. Others who showed some sort of noticeable reaction to his advances. He hopes he's not imagining the touch of longing in Ryeowook’s eyes, nor the way they dart down to his mouth.

Then something ends up stuck to Donghae’s chin, though he can only tell by the tacky feeling because all he could see was the reddening at the edges of Ryeowook’s ears and his sharp-edged, hungry look. That’s gone now, replaced with laughter as though nothing had ever been building up between them.

“You have a goatee!” Ryeowook keeps laughing for too long for Donghae’s pride to take. He works on rubbing off the offending sticky bits, grimacing all the while. _So much for that._ Once Ryeowook finally calms to chuckling, his shoulders shaking faintly, he rubs at the tip of his own chin with his fingertip. Donghae wipes there next.

“Did I get it?” He says with annoyance. This time wasn’t his fault, though. Knowing that doesn’t help any. He swipes his tongue over his chin for any remnants of sauce, and it’s entirely unsexy and the moment is gone.

“Yeah,” Ryeowook says. “Ah, you’re really cute.” As much as Donghae loves Ryeowook’s feline smile, knowing it to be affectionate, he wants all that other stuff back. Was that his one chance? Would it never work again?

“I’m not cute,” Donghae says with a pout. Not the best way to prove his point, he soon realizes. Ryeowook laughs some more, but sticks to eating his meal rather than feeding it to Donghae after that, so he doesn’t get another opportunity. He feels clumsy and awkward the entire time. And too silent.

*

 _Now_ he’s hiding in his room.

It’s for good reason, though - whatever his fantasy life might have to say about being walked in on while jerking off, he’d rather not test the reality, even as a possibility. Hence his locked door.

Idly, he wishes he still had enough interest in the variety of images and scenarios he used to call to mind. Not enough to try to do anything about it. It’s habit by now to call up the same quick and dirty imagery he’s been using for the past week. Imagining Ryeowook bouncing on his cock with abandon, high moans arcing up to echo off the ceiling, is nothing new, but lately, Henry has crept in too, kneeling by his head, knees wide apart, nudging insistently at his mouth. Both of them touch him at every opportunity, ravenous for more of him, and he goes still as he comes.

Letting himself sink into the mattress, out of breath for a few seconds, he feels pathetic. Really pathetic. But Ryeowook touched his mouth like that and he can’t stop feeling its aftershocks.

*

He got stuck in the row behind them in the van because of his dejected lagging, so he’s only half paying attention to the conversation, turning his music up and down, up and down.

“How was your trip? Did you get to go with your friend?” Ryeowook’s using that voice again. Donghae just barely resists the urge to sigh very loudly. Or find something to complain about.

Even if he couldn’t see over the seat, he’d know exactly what the scene in front of him would look like - Ryeowook’s bright smile, his torso leaning forward attentively, his hand curled loosely on Henry’s upper arm, resting a few centimeters above his elbow. Henry’s eyes shining with excitement, his hands flying all over the place, sitting straighter and taller for his audience of one. It might as well be right out of Donghae’s imagination for how depressingly accurate it is. He abandons his chin’s perch to lie back as far as he can.

“Yeah! It was great!” Henry says. “But I’m so tiiiiiired! I had to…” Volume back up. Next song comes on. He keeps watching their mouths moving. They’re in their own little bubble and he kind of hates himself for hating it, that he has any feelings about the matter at all. The annoyingly peppy song on his playlist finishes. The next one that comes on, he’s heard too many times recently, but rather than skip it, he turns the volume back down to nearly nothing.

“Oh, is it close to you? Do you want to go try it together?” The warm tone Ryeowook asks that in makes Donghae jealous and sad. This is why he stopped listening - what's he going to do, interrupt and look like a jerk? That wouldn’t help any. It’d only make Ryeowook mad. Like last time.

“That’d be great! When are you free?” _Shit._ Donghae swallows hard. He knows that particular inflection of Henry’s like he knows the back of his own hand. That… sounds a lot like a date.

 _Calm down, it’s not gonna be like that._ He tries hard to convince himself instead of listening to their negotiations. _Look, Ryeowook isn’t acting any different, you know it’s nothing. Henry has been just as frustrated as you. Also, you get to see Ryeowook all the time. You’ll catch up._ _Just wait, Henry’ll come to you and tell you all about it anyway._ He grimaces as he realizes he’s talking to himself all weird inside his own mind, telling himself what to do, so he finally taps next and turns the volume back up so that he doesn’t have to hear the rest. If he closes his eyes, he doesn’t have to see it, either.

*

He’s standing in the kitchen in only a pair of pajama bottoms, staring blankly at the fridge door while the chill of the hardwood floor fades, when he hears them come in. With a sigh, he abandons the quest to pick a snack in favor of going over to see them.

And that’s exactly what he does. _All_ he does. He stands there, his insides turning upside down as he watches Henry pull Ryeowook down onto the couch with him. With loud protests full of laughter, Ryeowook seems to settle contently into Henry’s hold. They look so good together that Donghae steps forward, about to-

“Hyuuung,” Henry says, so sickeningly cute that Donghae instantly regrets being within a kilometer of him, “would it be alright if I stayed the night here?”

One long yawn later, Ryeowook removes Henry’s arms, levering himself up. “Sure,” he says through another yawn, “enough of Heechul’s things should be in his old room for you to sleep there.” As Ryeowook steps away, Henry nods attentively, moving onto his stomach on the couch, half-slithering forward until his chin hangs off the armrest. How can he still be so full of energy? “The mattress should still be there with sheets and all. If not, let me know and I’ll get you a pillow and blanket for the couch.”

“Thank you very much!” Henry continues his cutesy spree, making a kissy face at Ryeowook, who laughs and shakes his head. Donghae’s perversely glad to know that he’s not the only one who gets laughed at like that.

He walks back to the fridge, figuring his stomach will unclench at some point and he’ll still want a snack. Ryeowook shows up next to him, squeezing his arm as he opens the fridge and grabs two orange slices that grew stuck together. Faster than Donghae can think, Ryeowook puts the combined mega-slice into his hand, pats his hip and smiles softly at him, brimming with affection. It might be because of his continuing blank stare that Ryeowook changes his mind, taking the slice from Donghae’s hand before it’s even had a chance to warm up, holding it against his lips.

Donghae obediently opens his mouth.

It’s a stroke of luck that he doesn’t choke from how quickly he swallows it down. Good or bad, he can’t tell yet. Something like desire peeks out on Ryeowook’s face, and his fingertip lingers on Donghae’s bottom lip. Donghae can’t help but touch the tip of his tongue to it, suddenly much more awake as he realizes what he did. Is doing. And that Ryeowook let him, is currently letting him envelop a bit more into his mouth for an impossibly long moment before pulling back.

Ryeowook slowly lets his hand drop away from Donghae’s lip, quickly glances up and down the length of him, smirks, and says good night. If it’d been anyone else, Donghae would have pegged it instantly as _I like what I see._ When message doesn’t quite match action, he’s a lot less sure.

He trails after Ryeowook without meaning to, though at half his speed at most, which means he catches the sight of Ryeowook’s hand leaving Henry’s hair as they trade good nights as well. Ryeowook reminds him to come to him if he needs anything as he leaves for his room, the very image of fatigue. Donghae stops following him, turning before he collides with the coffee table to head for his own bed, a little bit sad. Mostly too tired for emotions.

Instead, Henry follows _him_ , only speaking once Donghae’s door is firmly closed behind them. “He’s so sweet and so _oblivious_.” This is, of course, accompanied by a pitiful-sounding whine. “I used all my best moves, and he still laughs and calls me cute. Or hugs me, or patts my butt. But there’s no follow-through!”

Donghae chuckles; Henry calling _anyone_ oblivious is pretty funny. “What, did you think he was going to invite you to stay in his room?”

“It could’ve happened. We’ve shared a bed before,” Henry grumbles.

“How many years ago was that?” It’s almost an automatic reaction for Donghae to start cackling when Henry shoves at his arm.

“Shhh. Shut up!”

But then, Henry is in front of Donghae in a blink, and Henry’s lips are pressing against his, hard, unrelenting, pushing his open, and all laughter is gone. Now Donghae knows exactly why Henry’s so energetic. His outsized response to Donghae sucking on his tongue tells him everything he needs to know. Could be that he’s just as obvious, letting Henry push him down onto his own bed, grab the underside of his thigh, maneuver it towards his chest.

Henry runs his fingertips over the back of Donghae’s upper thigh, down to the bottom curve of his ass, which is the point when his brain catches up. He makes an irritated sound, at least half because he doesn’t _want_ to stop. He hates having to be sensible. “You can’t, too much to do tomorrow. You can ride me if you want?”

“Hmmm. Nah, it’s fine, I’ll just blow you.” Henry immediately starts whispering in Donghae’s ear while he helps get his pants down to mid-thigh. “He has the sweetest smile, it’s so hard not to just kiss him,” Henry says, nipping Donghae’s earlobe.

“Mm.”

“Goddamnit, I wanna touch his thighs so badly, I wanna feel them squeezing me,” he continues, breathy, toying with Donghae’s waistband. Probably so he can keep talking for a little longer. Donghae nudges his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge. “Fuck, I bet he’s loud, too. I wanna find out firsthand more than anything. Can you imagine how his moans must sound?” Donghae _can_ imagine it, unfortunately for his own peace of mind. The thought of it makes him that much more desperate, though no less tired. He’s really, really tired.

“Should I make you sleep in Heechul’s room after all? I’ve got an early day too,” he says with a weak grin.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Henry says, grinning right back. “I’ll help you sleep better.” He gives Donghae a surprisingly chaste peck, though the next one is on his neck, then his sternum, then right at the upper edge of his stomach, making him twitch involuntarily in more than one place.

“Ah! Then how about you get to it?” For all his impatience, half joking though it may be, Donghae’s nonetheless too exhausted to do much besides curl his hand over the back of Henry’s neck when he swallows him down. An embarrassingly short time passes for both of them between that moment and Henry reaching for the tissue box. Donghae only hears the sound of them sliding against the cardboard container, one after the other, before he’s out.

He dreams of searching for something he never finds. Not even a glimpse.

*

By the time he’s awake enough to lumber into the bathroom, Henry’s already pushing a new toothbrush out of its plastic packaging. The instant it’s in his mouth, his arm goes around Ryeowook’s shoulder, who leans into Henry’s side, his reflection unwilling or unable to open its eyes all the way. Donghae nudges Henry’s arm with his forehead and gets sloppy petting in return.

It's not quite what he’d ever envisioned, but the quiet companionship of the three of them brushing their teeth together, elbows poking each other's arms as they reach for different containers at the same time, and of breakfast, quick as it ends up being, inspires a deep longing in him. For one morning, they’re not quite _not_ rivals, but something closer to that than not.

*

“Wouldn’t it be hot with the three of us, though?” Henry says this to him after a drawn-out silence, neither of them getting up to start on any of the activities they were chatting about earlier. Or get dressed. A whole list of possibilities seems to have been abandoned in favor of a quickie to release some tension. “Pressed between us, squirming and moaning, those amazing thighs all spread out, begging to be touched... Mmm. I'd want him first, though.”

“Dream on, loser,” Donghae says without venom, since that’d take energy he doesn’t have. Henry snorts.

“Come on, loosen up. Use your imagination. You know, I bet he’s wild in bed.”

“You think so?” Donghae asks, contemplating the notion. Thoroughly. “Hmmmm. You’re probably right. He doesn’t do anything halfheartedly, does he.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Henry says with a happy-sounding sigh. He hums, something high and cheerful. “I’m thinking ice cream.”

“Right now? I’m not hungry,” Donghae says, still feeling listless.

“No, for the next date. Even if he still doesn’t get it, I can have a good time watching him.” The temptation to make fun of Henry for looking so smitten is strong, but. Well. Donghae has no room to talk. Still, he’s got one missile left in his arsenal.

“And then you’ll come crying to me afterwards.” He’s almost fast enough to jerk away from Henry’s poking, but not quite, so he considers smacking his hand away a good enough second best.

“Shut up,” Henry grumbles. “Like you’ve been doing any better.” Why the twentieth time he says that gets Donghae riled up, he doesn’t know, but something about it nettles him.

“I will. _I’ll_ get him into bed. You’ll see.”

“Whatever you say. Have fun not getting laid.” Henry snickers.

“Fucking _brat!_ ”

Despite Donghae’s best efforts, Henry keeps laughing through repeated facefuls of pillow. In fact, he laughs louder with every hit.

*

It suddenly occurs to Donghae, lying awake at - he turns onto his side to look - one forty-two AM, that even if he was the one to voice that objection first, he hasn’t really thought about neither of them winning, not _really_. So many thoughts rush into his mind - those sweet smiles being given to some unknown shadowy figure of a man, laughter into the phone that sounds different enough that he _knows_ , being- introduced to _someone special_. Each imaginary scene turns his stomach more, a thousand times more painful than anything he’s seen with his own two eyes. He’d scrub the last couple of minutes out of his memory if he could.

*

 _Wanna hang out?_ Henry’s message says. Donghae counts to five before replying, _What happened to ice cream?_

_It’s not happening._

_What did you do?_ His curiosity overtakes his sympathy. Sympathy? When did he start feeling sympathetic?

 _Are you coming over?_ Right. That’s the deal, isn’t it?

*

Watching the rain by himself makes him feel extra lonely today. For a minute, he thinks about picking a present, then about how Ryeowook said to him once that what he likes most is spending time with him. Not a lot of that to spare nowadays for either of them. Too often, not at the same time, on top of that.

He puts the whole bundle of thoughts back on the shelf for now. He writes about lying side by side in the grass, a soft hand warmer than the sun, the bare branches of winter rattled by the screaming wind that carries “I miss you” between them. Then he stuffs all that into a drawer that he locks with a key, disgusted with himself no matter how nice the words might be.

_I’m a mess over him even though he’ll never be mine. Not the way I want._

He walks over to Ryeowook's room as if looking inside one more time would make it stop being empty. It doesn't. Time to bug Kyuhyun instead, though he knows it'll never fill that particular void. Still, Kyuhyun’s fond mocking and familiar, almost enthusiastic acceptance of his hugs help him forget for a while. Laughter always helps. Even if it's from Kyuhyun laughing at him first when he starts talking about how big hippos are.

*

All it takes is a little note with a cute smiley on it or a quick hand squeeze and he can bounce right back up to hope another day.

*

He's in a hotel room. He's in a hotel room, and Ryeowook's next to him - more like on him - and his heart's racing and this time, he doesn't want to show anyone.

Or only one person.

He takes a quick shot of them together, Ryeowook's head tucked under Donghae's chin, arm draped across his stomach, the overhang lying limply on the bed. Ryeowook claimed he wanted to chat, but then fell asleep like this instead. Who knew how he could, with the loud _thump thump thump_ he must be hearing. He's unimaginably cute like this, and Donghae feels a little bad when the click the phone’s camera makes has Ryeowook blinking his eyes open. He hasn’t figured out how to turn that off. He didn’t care all that much until now.

"Wha's go'n on?" Ryeowook says, drowsiness slurring his words.

"Nothing," Donghae whispers, smoothing his hand over Ryeowook's hair, continuing down his back. _I like how you fit in my arms._ A surge of protective feelings floods him. _I’ll keep you safe here with me. Don’t leave, okay?_

"Mm." That's all Ryeowook gets out before his head drops down again. After Donghae hits send, he puts his phone on silent and stuffs it under one of the pillows. He can find it tomorrow. He smiles down at Ryeowook, who doesn’t stir. _I must be the luckiest person in the whole world._

Though he didn’t have time to lay everything out quite the way he wanted, the faint scent of Ryeowook’s shampoo and their shared warmth under the blanket lull Donghae into a peaceful sleep.

*

A day when he’s been up since four AM isn’t his first choice, but he doesn’t know when they’ll next be home together. But it should’ve been simple. And yet, he burned ramen. How did he burn ramen?! He only stepped away for a minute when his phone rang…

Scrunching up his face, he looks for something to use to scrub the char and chunks of burnt noodles off the pot. There, one of those sponges with a rough side to it. He’ll get right to that. Yeah. After he lies down for a little while. Ryeowook won’t be home _that_ soon. He’ll never know anything’s… wrong…

Forcing his eyes open, Donghae tries to make sense of the numbers on his clock. How long did he sleep? He didn’t mean to fall asleep at all. A muted alarm goes off in his head, but he can’t quite remember. Something about the kitchen.

He makes it there somehow, rubbing at his eyes and looking around, mind still foggy with sleep. Gleaming metal catches a spot of the ceiling lights. Rough, jarring sounds. Ryeowook looks so _tired_ , which lights the wick that brings back the flame of memory.

“I-“ Donghae’s attempt at talking is stifled by his yawn. He smacks his lips, his head drooping a bit. “I’m gonna fix that. It’s my fault.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got this,” Ryeowook says softly. He looks at Donghae with heartwrenchingly gentle fondness, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” His vowels come out stretched out, as distorted as his gait is shaky. Still, he keeps getting closer. All he wants is to be closer. Ryeowook nods twice in quick succession.

“You have an early schedule tomorrow too. Go back to sleep.” He sounds so loving, he _is_ so loving and wonderful that Donghae can’t resist hugging him.

“Thank you,” he says in a sleep-rough voice, kissing Ryeowook’s cheek before walking unsteadily back to his bed, not fully realizing any of it until morning.

*

 _Stupid_ , he berates himself. _You were supposed to do something nice for him, not the other way around. Making him do more work was the_ opposite _of what was supposed to happen. Idiot._ He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. _So much for the fancy words you had planned. “I’ll take good care of you. Stay by my side.”_ He jabs the controls to turn the treadmill’s speed up two levels. _Way to go, shit for brains._

*

From the side, Donghae sees Ryeowook beaming at the screen in front of him. He’s so _beautiful_ , it shouldn’t be possible, having such a strong magnetic pull. Donghae has to know what’s making him smile like that. “What’s up?”

The pull’s even stronger when Ryeowook turns to Donghae to hit him full blast with his radiance. “Henry’s so cute. Look at this.” Donghae’s relieved that Ryeowook turns back around before he can see his disappointment.

“Yeah, cute,” Donghae says in a strained voice. It’s not that he’s _not_ , it’s just…

“Right? He’s always so cute playing with kids.” Ryeowook has this unbearably precious smile on his face, the embodiment of the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “I’m going to see how he’s doing.” The click of his phone case opening seems to be a world away.

There’re a lot of things Donghae’s not sure about, but he’s positive Ryeowook’s never smiled like that because of him. The contest with Henry has never felt like more of one. Weeks, by now, but… The gap doesn’t seem all that big until it suddenly does. Donghae sees all the things that are not for him, all the ways he’s not special to Ryeowook. He hums noncommittally, wrapping his arms around Ryeowook’s shoulders and thinking that it might be better if he loses.

The present seems like a good of a time as any to admit to himself why he’s been finding Henry’s usual antics grating instead of endearing. _Maybe you_ should _have him,_ Donghae thinks, staring at the image still up on Ryeowook’s screen. _Maybe you’d make him happier than I ever could._

Ryeowook shakes Donghae’s arms off him. “Don’t do that. I hate it. It makes me feel short.”

Donghae laughs. That’s so thoroughly like Ryeowook that he can’t do anything else. “Lighten up! It’s not a big deal.”

It takes incredible skill to follow up exactly the wrong thing to do with exactly the wrong thing to say, skill that Donghae possesses in spades. Ryeowook goes from warm to statue-cold, ignoring him for the rest of the day.

*

He insists on helping Ryeowook with some stretches because he looked a little stiff last time, he _did_ , okay, there’s nothing selfish about it. (Or nothing _too_ selfish.) And there’s nothing unusual about a little massage, either.

“Get a new chair already,” Donghae scolds, getting only alternating hums and hissing in return. “You’re always complaining about the one you have hurting your back. I’ll buy you a new one and put it together if that’s what it takes,” he says as he works on a knot in Ryeowook’s lower back. He’d told himself he should back off, but he’s having a hard time sticking to it, the words coming out no matter how hard he tries to hit the brakes.

Ryeowook hisses louder. “I’m okay for now. I’ll get one in a couple of weeks.”

“You promise?” Donghae moves back up to his shoulders.

“Yes, mm, I promise.” The almost-teasing tenderness in his tone makes it hard for Donghae to not replace his hands with his mouth right then and there. _Still hopeless._

Beneath his touch, Ryeowook suddenly tenses, jumping up onto his feet. What… what just happened? Oh yeah. Still mad.

Correction, Donghae’s more hopeless than ever.

He uses that hurt, the ache in his chest at being so obviously ignored, to renew his resolve to back off, sure that he could keep it if he kept himself occupied. Dance practice was good for that, up to a point. Now, to be specific. He’d been doing fine, concentrating on the motions, until now. In the mirror, Ryeowook’s close enough that Donghae can see a droplet of sweat running down his neck, hovering at his collarbone-

“-haek.”

“Huh?” Donghae blinks and shakes his head. Hyukjae’s looking at him with a mixture of concern and annoyance.

“That’s the third time you spaced out. Where’s your head today?”

“Sorry,” Donghae mumbles. “I’m okay.” _So embarrassing._ He refuses to make the rest of them start over, knowing the endless ribbing he’d get, so he picks up the routine at the chorus, keeping his eyes on the floor as much as possible. _Should I tell him? Get it over with? Will it be easier to get over him if I do?_ The thought plagues him far longer than his embarrassment does.

So does its follow-up - _Will he talk to me long enough for me to say it?_

*

He doesn’t. He _can’t._ Now that he _wants_ words to come out, he can’t find a single one. Ryeowook looks at him with suspicion. _Say something!_ He yells at himself. Under the pressure, the thought that Ryeowook might walk away at any moment racing through his mind, Donghae blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry. For making you mad.”

There, those are words. It’s not what he wanted to say, but Ryeowook nods, less stiff and almost… happy? Relieved? He chances a hug, tense, waiting. He doesn’t get pushed away for so long that he’s nearly boneless with relief of his own. There’s a nagging feeling that won’t leave him, one that insists he should say something else, but nothing solid enough comes to mind. Nothing worth risking any more hurt for either of them.

By morning, they’re back to normal, but it’s the earlier normal of no lingering touches or ambiguously flirty comments. No matter how many times they’ve fought before, Donghae never knew until today that Ryeowook’s light, amiable chatter could feel like a hollow victory. Especially with only the most minimal contact between them, not to mention the hawk-eyed caution burning holes in his back.

*

“Don’t feel bad, hyung. I couldn’t say anything either. I got real close, he looked at me with that huge smile and I…” Henry flaps his hand around in lieu of words for a couple of seconds. “You know that feeling, um, when you see something so beautiful that you forget how to talk?”

“Do I ever,” Donghae groans. _It doesn’t matter even if I did concede. I don’t think either of us can win._ But he can’t bring himself to say that, either. Doesn’t matter if it makes him a fool - hope's his longest-lasting, most loyal friend.

“Yeah, and then he thought I was being weird and asked me kinda vague questions and it was really awkward. I might’ve… sort of… run away when he got upset. So he hasn’t talked to me for a week.”

“Better than six months. That’s my record,” Donghae says to the ceiling.  The mattress moves beneath him, and Henry’s wry chuckle moves farther away, but he doesn’t bother looking.

“What a pair we make, huh?” That’s a bad sign. Henry tends to switch to English when he’s sad and doesn’t realize it. Time to roll over to look.

“It’ll be okay. He’ll get over it.” Saying that doesn’t feel like comforting his rival. No, it’s outside of the terms of their deal, but he’s comforting his friend. That’s important, too. “He’ll be laughing at you and feeding you again in no time.” The jab Donghae expected doesn’t come, and the effort it took to lob that softball doesn’t get Henry to face him, which makes him frown.

“He’s always been there for me, you know?” Henry says it so quietly, turned away, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don’t wanna lose him.” It hits Donghae that under that mountain of brash confidence is the same Henry that he’s known for so many years, the one who worries and wants to be liked and cares too much. The pain in those words rips through him as if he’d been the one who said them. He reaches out to stroke Henry’s back, disregarding the remaining sweaty patches, but Henry’s shoulders only slump further. Donghae lets his hand drop.

“Come on,” Henry says, standing up. He pulls on a t-shirt from the floor with none of his usual flair. “Let’s go out.”

“To do what?” Donghae lies on his stomach, enjoying the view of Henry getting dressed. He’d better be putting on his own underwear, though. No matter how great his ass looks in that pair. That’s not writing on the waistband, is it? He _did_ stay over at the dorms again fairly recently…

“I dunno. Something.” With none of Henry’s usual cheerful barbs or excited rambling to fill the air, Donghae can hear him zip up as he heads for the door. Another pang of sympathy wells up.

“Hm.” Out _would_ mean not cooped up in here, Donghae reasons. Seems like they could both use something to lift their spirits. “Yeah, okay.”

He reaches for his shirt, but only Henry’s bright red is laying on the floor. “Hey!” He yells at Henry’s retreating form. “That’s mine!” No matter how much Henry complains, he should’ve expected to be tackled to the floor.

“Urgh!” Through Henry’s coughing, confirmation that he’s at least wearing his own jeans comes in the form of the muffled cartoonish sounds coming from below him. He tries to break out of Donghae’s grasp. “Get off me already!”

Donghae obliges, pulling his shirt off to reclaim it in the process. He sniffs it, just in case. _Ew_ , he thinks, wrinkling his nose. “You wore this? Gross. It smells awful. I’m taking one of yours.” Henry ignores him, looking a lot more cheerful, even going so far as to make a victorious-sounding “ha!” Donghae decides to be nice and runs over to grab Henry’s shirt for him. “What’s up?” He says as he pushes it into Henry’s hand. Or tries to, to no avail.

“He’s inviting me over! More like demanding. Hehe.” Henry’s practically bouncing with excitement. “I’ll see you again in a few days. Or not, if my plan works.” Of course Donghae snorts at Henry’s ridiculously exaggerated wink. Who wouldn’t? “I’m gonna make my move. No more of this dancing around.” Funny enough, he’s doing some sort of dance as he says this. Donghae laughs and shakes his head.

“Alright, Romeo, whatever you say. Put your shirt back on first.” Since Henry’s too busy typing out a reply, Donghae stuffs his head into his shirt. To be helpful. And to cover up his stupid conceited face.

*

With Ryeowook’s stomping around and grumbling, Donghae’s nowhere near as confident about Henry’s prospects on Friday. Also, any thoughts he might’ve had about making his own attempt fled his mind as soon as Ryeowook glared at him for asking to add something to the grocery list. He’ll stick to eating out for now.

He’d considered warning Henry, but… To hell with it, it’ll be funnier to watch him flounder.

*

Ryeowook seems to have simmered down to a reasonable level of annoyed, whatever it was he was annoyed _about_ in the first place, right up until their guest arrives. There’s the stomping again. If Henry can figure his way out of this one, Donghae’ll admit once and for all that he _deserves_ to win.

Flawlessly polite, for once, Henry still manages to catch Donghae’s eye for a moment, shooting him a smug look. He bites his lip, very quickly waggling his eyebrows a couple of times. Tamping down his laughter, Donghae sends him a thumbs up. Which, of course, is the part that Ryeowook sees, sternly staring him down as if expecting… something. Who knows what. Whatever it is, he doesn’t get it, making him look angrier, which makes Donghae shrink back down onto the couch in turn.

For some reason, his heart’s beating faster. Then he sees Henry quickly put his façade of modesty back on, which is even funnier, so the challenge now is keeping his laughter quiet as he looks on.

Henry doesn’t notice because he’s clearly not paying a bit of attention to Donghae anymore. His eyes are riveted to Ryeowook. He looks so hopeful that, for a moment, Donghae’s not sure whether he wants to see him go down in flames or get pushed down onto the floor. He’s maybe thought about the latter two or six times.

Henry’s confident bearing wavers when Ryeowook turns to him, but when he grabs Henry’s hand and starts pulling him towards the table, a beaming smile blooms instead. “Donghae-hyung, don’t you have somewhere to be?” Henry calls out to him, stumbling for a second when he’s pushed onto one of the chairs.

Donghae’s considering playing along when Ryeowook practically growls, “Neither of you are going anywhere. **Sit.** ”

At this rate, his heart’s going to give out. Donghae didn’t know Ryeowook could sound like that. He lets himself be dragged the short distance from the couch by his wrist, finding himself enjoying that a lot more than he should be.

 _Damnit, focus!_ In an effort to turn his attention elsewhere, he looks over to Henry, who seems very confused at the moment. Donghae starts snickering, then realizes Ryeowook is shooting daggers at him, so he clams up.

Ryeowook sits there, arms crossed, angrily looking between the two of them with that same expecting expression, for one tick after another. After counting five of them, Donghae can’t manage sitting straight as a board anymore, his own confusion showing through.

“Is something wrong?” Henry asks before he can, sounding so unsure that he bursts out laughing. That lasts all of a second until he notices Ryeowook's eye twitching. Donghae sinks a little in his seat, despite being certain that he hasn’t done anything wrong in the last few days. Maybe even two weeks. That one thing doesn’t count because he fixed it _and_ covered up the smell with air freshener, and even bought a new pack of batteries for good measure. Those were for something else, but, still. Bonus points.

Ryeowook huffs, looking incredulous. “I’ve had _enough_. What are you two up to? Is there some kind of game you’re playing? I’d better not find anything rotten hidden _anywhere,_ “ he says, fuming.

“Game? What are you talking about?” Every time Donghae thinks he’s used to conversations coming out of left field, that he’s prepared for just about everything possible, he gets surprised again. Now, Henry looks more confused than before - as confused as Donghae feels, even.

"You've both been acting strange around me, being secretive and sneaking around all the time. I don't have the time to get to the bottom of it, so, come on, out with it," Ryeowook says, clearly a lot angrier than he appeared earlier, which didn’t seem possible. Even in his fury, he looks stunningly gorgeous. Donghae’s tongue-tied. He kind of wants to kiss Ryeowook breathless.

"I love you," Henry quickly says, taking one of Ryeowook's hands between both of his own. Though Donghae feels like his stomach wants to leap out onto the floor, he stays where he’s sitting by reflex, spared Ryeowook's glare.

"Henry. _What did you do._ "

"I didn't do anything bad. Unless you don't like flowers. Is that the problem?"

Ryeowook sighs, turning away from Henry’s confusion to face Donghae, his chair squeaking. "Hyung, will you tell me what's going on? I'm really worried," he says, slightly more subdued.

"I loved you first," Donghae manages in a rasp. He clears his throat and tries again. “If that means anything. Probably not. Just, please don't leave me all alone even if- you don't pick me." Tongue-tied was better. Ryeowook deflates, no longer blazing with anger, but sort of drooping like he’s burnt out. _Shit, what did I do?_

"If this is a joke, it's going too far," Ryeowook says in a sad, quiet voice. He pinches right above the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep sigh, his eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t believe you’d stoop this low.” Once again, Donghae’s gotten too familiar with the sound of heartbreak. “I told you both because I trusted you, not so you could throw it in my face like this.”

“It’s not a joke!” Donghae says too loudly, his heart a sinking stone dropping into his stomach. He takes Ryeowook’s free hand away from his nose to place a soft kiss on the back of it, then places it on his own cheek, closing his eyes before he has to see what might come after Ryeowook’s wordless, wide-eyed shock. “Not a joke,” he says more quietly this time. He remembers the pretty words he wanted to say before. “I’ll take good care of you. Stay by my side.”

He feels Ryeowook’s thumb brushing a soft arc over the top of his cheek. It gives him the courage to look.

Just in time to see Henry leaning in for a kiss.

 _Always has to get one up on me, huh._ Donghae can see how Ryeowook’s melting into it, feeling too many things at once - jealousy, despair, some not very small amount of arousal. Really unhelpful right now. Figures that Henry’s mouth keeps getting him into trouble. Trouble he really, really wants to be in the middle of.

Eventually, Ryeowook pushes Henry away, breathing hard but taking his hand back. Donghae takes the opportunity to kiss the palm of the one still cradling his cheek, and Ryeowook smiles at him like moonlight’s gentle glow. He’s sure he sends back at least as much adoration. Just like that, things feel a lot more okay, even with Ryeowook’s hand gone from his reach as well. He hears more than sees Henry sitting down in his chair again. A bit distracted, at the moment.

“Okay,” Ryeowook squeaks, then clears his throat. “Okay, let’s say I accept that it’s not a joke. Then what?”

“You should- pick who you like more,” Henry says, all shaky bluster. Donghae croaks out his agreeement.

After looking contemplative for painfully long seconds, Ryeowook suddenly grins. It’s impish and, frankly, a little tiny itty bit scary. Or hot. One of those. “No.”

“I told you,” Donghae hisses at Henry, full of bitter rage. It doesn't last; Henry looks so defeated that Donghae’s anger is snuffed out almost as quickly as it rose up. In a way, they were in this together. _Were_. He chances looking at Ryeowook, trying to form an apology through his voice-stealing sadness.

Ryeowook’s still smiling like the cat that got the cream. "Why do I have to choose?"

"...What?" Donghae’s officially resigning himself to never being prepared for anything. He’s going to get a framed certificate announcing the fact to hang up on his wall.

"You both like me, right? The feeling’s mutual,” Ryeowook says, almost frighteningly calm. Donghae’s brain freezes up as that information sinks in. “Seems simple to me. Why can't I have both of you?" Turns out Henry was right; Ryeowook really _can_ leer with the best of ‘em.

Henry and Donghae stare at each other, astounded. Blink. Blink. Blink blink. Henry recovers first, mouthing “I told you” back at him but, thankfully, not saying the words.

“We always did work better as a team.” Donghae says each word slowly, the truth of that sinking in with each slight nod of his head. Ryeowook turns to face only him, grinning even wider.

“You said anything I want. That’s what I want.”

“Yes. Definitely yes,” Henry says. “So…” He looks back and forth between them for longer than he usually stays quiet, finally settling on Ryeowook, who’s resting his chin on his hand. There’s no question about the meaning of the way he’s looking at Henry fumble around. “How exactly does this work?”

Only sparing Henry a sideways glance, Donghae also looks to Ryeowook for guidance, fixing his own bangs out of nervousness. Probably making them worse. Whatever.

Ryeowook smirks. “I’ve got a few ideas.” He slides his squeaky chair back from the table, reaches over to put Donghae’s bangs back. His touch makes Donghae’s eyes lose focus for a bit. Seeming content with his work, he takes a few steps towards his room, then turns around. “Are you coming?” He says, eyebrows raised, his head tilted in invitation.

Donghae nearly falls flat on his face scrambling to follow him. Good thing Henry caught his arm to steady him, shooting him a wink. With Henry’s hand in his, tugging him along, he doesn’t fall again.

Okay, once, but _that_ time’s on purpose.

It makes for a great first kiss.

*

As if psychically connected, Donghae watches Henry’s eyes open seconds after his, or maybe a minute. It’s hard to keep track when he’s cozy and comfortable with Ryeowook curled up between them. He gestures for Henry to stay quiet, looking at Ryeowook’s face, slack with sleep, then back up. Henry nods.

It’s astounding that it turned out this way, Donghae has to conclude. He can’t help but feel that he’s won the jackpot of life. For a few seconds, he and Henry grin at each other; Donghae figures they feel about the same about this whole situation. They really must have some sort of mental link, because at almost the exact same moment, they both move to do the softest, quietest high five possible.

With a sharp intake of breath, Ryeowook pulls a chunk of the blanket closer to him. Donghae tries not to move a muscle while Henry very carefully retreats to his own side. A tense moment of watching later, Donghae’s relieved to find that Ryeowook remains asleep, his breathing evening out. Donghae slowly withdraws his hand, cautiously placing it on his own thigh so as to not disturb Ryeowook.

Soon. Soon enough, he’ll be awake, sleep-tousled and adorably grumpy and kissable and absolutely…

Perfect.


	2. stains my pillowcase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this a bonus scene that a friend convinced me to write. You know who you are and this is all your fault. =P

Brash as always, Henry strips off his shirt before his bedroom door’s fully closed. While Ryeowook finishes the job, he pouts over his shoulder, closing the door louder than necessary. Donghae winces; he’ll mention that another time, when they’re not all so preoccupied.

“I was going to do that,” Ryeowook says, his petulance a sharp turn from the mood of a moment ago. Meanwhile, thwack, Henry’s shirt slides down the wall into the one empty corner.

“Sorry,” Henry says, but doesn’t sound like he means it one bit. Walking right past him, Ryeowook flops back onto the bed without acknowledging Henry’s attempt at baiting him. What hasn’t changed is that Donghae doesn’t understand their games, but he doesn’t need to. After they’re done, they have these cute little grins-

Anyway, Ryeowook’s going unkissed right now, which is absolutely not allowed, he decides. The best way to fix that is pretending to fall onto him, ending up hovering over him on hands and knees.

“Oops, I fell,” Donghae says, laughter bubbling up in his words, then drops farther. It’s a lot like their first kiss, only a bit too hard, but it doesn’t matter with the sparks igniting inside him him from their mouths moving against each other, his arms straining for a moment to stop him short of doing any mood-killing damage before he carefully moves down the rest of the way. Kissing Ryeowook is still so _new_ and it makes his head spin sometimes.

The petulance disappears.

When he breaks away to look, really look like he rarely let himself do before, Ryeowook laughs, his thighs gripping Donghae’s sides. “How many times are you going to do that?” Without waiting for an answer, Donghae feels Ryeowook’s arms wrap around his back, pulling him in closer again. Donghae touches Ryeowook’s tongue with his own as one of Ryeowook’s arms leaves him, feeling desire coursing through him, hot and sharp and _sudden_ as though he wasn’t the one to do this, to drive the action forward.

In the background, because everything but the places they’re touching aren’t going to get much of his attention, he hears Henry’s emphatic “ah!” and has some idea of what’s going on, but doesn’t care enough to look. He sits up and takes Ryeowook with him, bouncing him once to get him settled on his lap. That earns him a part-amused, part-exasperated “Hey!” and a halfhearted push to his shoulder, but it’s okay. He knows it is.

This is just _them_ , in that inexplicable, indefinable way.

“You,” Ryeowook starts, but only smiles, huffing out a laugh through his nose instead of continuing. He’s more than cooperative with his shirt coming off next, Donghae helping with one hand (if clumsy, overenthusiastic tugging could be described as helping, but, _priorities_ ) while the other helps him keep his balance.

There’s a hazy awareness in Donghae’s mind that there’s a right way to do things, or that the first time held some hints that he should be aware of, but he can’t _think_ when he’s consumed by the need to touch and taste. He laps at the skin stretched over Ryeowook’s collarbone, gets a soft hum and fingers running through his hair but not much more. He scrapes his teeth back along the same path. The surprised “oh!” he hears from Ryeowook is _much_ more what he was looking for.

He feels movement between them. Something hard digs into his chest in the same place, on and off, a varying, annoying sting, so with an irritated grunt, he gives Ryeowook the space to undo the buttons of his shirt one-handed, once he realizes that’s what’s happening. But three’s the limit of his patience, so he dives back in to taste Ryeowook’s neck, driven by all-consuming _want_.

The depth of the sweetness of _having_ is endless. If it’s not, he never wants to find out. He’d rather fall forever.

 _Fuck_ , Ryeowook’s gasping makes Donghae feel like he’s spinning out of control, these noises slipping out of his own throat in turn that can only be described as savoring. That’s exactly what he’s doing, _savoring_ the taste and being pressed close together, almost too much when they’ve barely begun.

He hardly feels or notices the sleeves of his shirt being taken off. Might’ve missed it entirely if it wasn’t for what followed, a soft, _incredibly soft_ hand putting firm pressure in lines, circles, roads with hairpin turns over his back. Entirely unlike that is the rough sound that comes out of Ryeowook, something like a growl as Donghae’s squeezed close, closer, adjusting with reflexes he didn’t think he had to mouth at the back of Ryeowook’s neck instead of the side.

He loves how they move with each other.

Smoothly, easily, they break apart seconds later. He’s glad because he can’t decide between looking and touching, constantly going back and forth. One after another, Ryeowook gifts him with soft, lingering kisses, and there’s another on his shoulder, too, vague sounds coalescing into curses that he barely picks up.

Out of nowhere, he wonders if this is how it’s supposed to go, though it seems like he’s the only one whose breathing refuses to cooperate all of a sudden. Is he- Should he take the lead this time? Do something else entirely? _Am I doing okay?_

The pause lets nervousness creep in, linger for the first time in years, but one more kiss and it’s easy to- not get rid of it, but at least set it aside, because of trust. Trust that comes from experience, both a decade of it and the much more recent one.

Though he’s otherwise occupied - impressively so, Donghae glances over to see, jealousy and desire mixing dangerously for the moment he takes in the motion of Ryeowook’s hand beneath Henry’s waistband - and is even stolen away for a brief but energetic kiss, matching his multitasking in that short span, Ryeowook turns back to him. He raises his eyebrows, mouth forming a loose “o”, though not yet speaking, looking clear and focused and ready to change course at a moment’s notice.

 _I love you so much that I don’t know how to handle it._ “I’m okay,” Donghae says without being asked. He brushes the knuckles of his fingers over Ryeowook's cheek, finding it smooth. He can't help but retrace it with the tips of his fingers to revel in its smoothness. A warm, fluttering feeling that can’t be formed into words makes its way through him. Ryeowook looks at him with such adoration that he melts all over again.

His hands make their way to Ryeowook's hips, no longer worried about him balancing himself. Which is why Donghae's startled into gripping too tight when Ryeowook suddenly moans and arches into him.

Henry meets Donghae's eyes over Ryeowook's shoulder as his eyebrows jump up only once. “Look what I found,” he says with his almost comfortingly familiar smirk.

Ryeowook's panting against Donghae's throat in a very distracting way, not that there could be any other kind. He enjoys that while he lets Henry take his hand, squeeze it. A different kind of affection warms him.

“Lightly,” Henry says, mimicking what must've been his earlier actions, tracing a short line through the air with his index finger before he places it at the base of Ryeowook’s neck.

 _I wonder…_ Goading or no, Donghae has to try it for himself. It takes a lot of self-control, especially with Ryeowook now mouthing at his shoulder.

Finding something already in his way, which almost makes him laugh (he can imagine how well _that_ would go, so he doesn’t), Donghae takes Henry’s wandering hand into his own, squeezes it to show no harm meant, then lets himself be guided. He tries to follow Henry’s instruction after he hovers without touching for a moment to let any lingering sensation fade, brushing his fingertips as lightly as he can over the small of Ryeowook’s back. Just like a moment before, Ryeowook moans and arches towards him again. A shocked curse slips out of Donghae’s mouth. So exquisite, so intense, he _wants_ beyond what words could describe, if he had any.

“It’s too much,” Ryeowook whispers in his ear, sounding suddenly shy or embarrassed.

“Ah?” Donghae hasn’t gotten speech back quite yet.

“It’s too much for now. Let me touch you instead.” He whispers again, soft sounds and warm breath close to distracting Donghae from what he’s actually saying.

“Okay.” There’s no reason to turn that down. They each get what they want, and _god_ , being wanted like that… It’s indescribable.

“Thank you,” Ryeowook murmurs, kissing his cheek. No sooner has he left Donghae’s lap than Henry gathers him up into his arms. It _is_ a nice place to end up, after all, and they look just as sweet together as ever. Donghae lies on his back, feels like his head’s lying unevenly, then moves another pillow over to even out the middle. Now, he can comfortably watch Henry nosing at the crook of Ryeowook’s neck, listening to their bursts of low laughter, waiting with only a touch of agitation.

Unexpectedly, Henry’s the first to reach out to him, squeezing his ankle, rubbing up and down his shin. _Gorgeous,_ he thinks about Henry’s grin, though it usually spells trouble.

“Didn’t forget,” Henry says.

“I know,” Donghae says with a grin of his own. They understand each other. It’s nice.

Nicer still is Ryeowook kneeling between his legs, now that he’s been released. He runs his hands down Donghae’s chest, abdomen, legs, slowly and thoroughly. The look on his face can only be described as awe, which makes Donghae want to object out of some strange reflex that he tamps down. He stretches up towards each and every touch. He too-attentively watches Ryeowook’s tongue dart out to lick his lips, realizing afterwards that he mirrored the action.

Cold, for a moment, then pressure-warm when Henry cuts in again to turn Ryeowook around, leaving him lying back against Donghae. He can only see a portion of their heated kissing, but it’s enough to flood him with urges from not so very long ago, ones he’s not sure what to do with. He grabs Henry’s shoulders, familiar and grounding, then smoothes his hands up and down Ryeowook’s arms.

It shouldn’t be different, maybe, but it is, taking in every detail - the somehow unexpected softness of the underside of Ryeowook’s upper arm, firm muscles evident where his arms are stretched in a tight grasp over Henry’s back, the delightful little furrows up near his shoulder that Donghae can feel with his fingertips. _Beautiful. Perfect. Mine._ Perhaps a strange thought to have, when Ryeowook is kissing another man directly on top of him, but it’s always been different with Henry. why should that change now?

He put up a good fight, but fighting’s not really his style. Pretty sure, anyway.

The least surprising part is how quickly Ryeowook’s stripped bare. It was inevitable, between the two of them. The most surprising part is that, somewhere along the way, Donghae started trusting Henry to not take anything away from him. Not all the way yet, but a lot closer than before.

In hardly two blinks, Henry’s hands are exactly where Donghae would’ve expected, starkly visible on Ryeowook’s thighs, then nearly disappearing when he switches from the front to the back. His mouth goes to Ryeowook’s neck, quick bursts of breath making it sound like that’s working out very well.

Everything feels like it’s happening so fast, in a good way. Ryeowook’s nails are now digging into Donghae’s sides, surprising a strangled almost-sound out of him, and he can more and more clearly see Henry’s lips moving over Ryeowook’s skin the lower he goes.

“Hold on a second,” Donghae says, lifting Ryeowook up enough to get out from under him. He wants to taste the soft skin of Ryeowook’s upper arm, so he does, starting from above the elbow, his tongue tracing a dotted line up, up, up, his mouth latching on to the softest point, a few centimeters short of where it curves into his side. He catches a hint of Ryeowook’s scent and the spike of desire that brings on makes him dizzy for a moment.

It all makes sense now.

So do Ryeowook’s choked-off gasps, once’s Donghae’s kissed the curve of his shoulder and had another taste of the column of his neck to his satisfaction for now, nosing along his shoulder. Not much opportunity to test the claim of being wild in bed this time, not when Ryeowook easily yields to Donghae’s weight on him and his mouth roaming his torso, and definitely not when Henry’s pinning his hips down while sucking his cock with loud enthusiasm. (The first time, though, him ordering them around, fitting so much into that small space… It’s not only his knees that ache thinking about it.)

Donghae’s still feeling his way around sharing like this. (Though, glancing over again, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want some of that.) It’s new, tense, unsettled, but the upsides are huge. One-on-one time would come later - no point in turning down a rare bit of good fortune. He’s got a bunch of ideas of his own, for when the time comes.

Coordinating seems to be Henry’s role today, or being all over the place. He’s already moving to get Donghae’s pants and underwear off, the thwop coming from a short distance away likely the sound of both falling in a pile in the same corner of the room as earlier. “I’m glad I’m not wearing a tie,” Donghae mutters. No response, so it either went unheard or made more sense in his head.

Either way, he waits, but Henry doesn’t take the space left open, so he rolls onto his back and pulls Ryeowook on top of him, encountering no resistance. Quiet and still, Henry sits on the corner of the bed with a bad idea look on his face.

“Ah,” he starts, raising his chin and tilting it dramatically, which seems like it shouldn’t be possible, “two magnificent works of art have graced me with their presence.” Ryeowook sits up and reaches over to smack his leg, though he’s laughing, too.

“Stop being so cheesy. There’s no time for that. I still have plans later tonight, you know,” he says, even as he’s rubbing the spot where he hit.

“If that’s what dating you is like, count me out,” Donghae adds.

“I didn’t ask you,” Henry grumbles. He scoots closer, gets some nose nuzzling and some whispers that seem to perk him right up again. A quick peck leaves him looking radiantly happy, which is a very nice look on him indeed.

Same with naked. That’s also a very, very good look.

But Donghae wants Ryeowook’s attention, so he brushes the back of his hand up Ryeowook’s thigh and back down. “Um,” he starts.

Not eloquent, but it works. Ryeowook drops to one elbow, his fingers combing through Donghae’s hair. For a moment, he looks so gentle, but then he mutters something that sounds filthy and they’re kissing, but it’s more like Donghae’s giving way to being kissed, Ryeowook’s tongue gliding against his and so much skin pressed together but it’s not close enough somehow, Ryeowook’s hand smoothing down his side and over his hip, and whatever it is, whatever is being asked of him, he wants to give in.

Wait, no, there’s- He’s gonna- Ryeowook pulls away, looks at him with glazed eyes, and that’s just enough space for the words to come out. “Can I fuck you like this?” Donghae says. It’d be embarrassing to sound so breathlessly excited about the idea if he could bring himself to care.

“Mm?” Ryeowook asks, rubbing against him in an absentminded way with short, quick breaths that only make it more difficult for Donghae to stop staring at his mouth. Donghae takes Ryeowook’s bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. Only a nip, then he considers where to go next. “What do you want?” Ryeowook asks more pointedly, his tone rich, sensual. His fingers thread through Donghae’s hair, tightening none too gently.

 _More,_ Donghae thinks, automatically adjusting his position, but, one thing at a time. “I-“ Donghae feels his face heat up, “I thought about it a lot, can I, please?” The words come out in an embarrassed rush. In contrast, the rest of him seems to know what to do, his knees bending to subtly move Ryeowook closer still to the position he wants him in, his hands holding Ryeowook’s waist just because he can.

“That so?” Henry lobs at him in a teasing voice. Ryeowook chuckles fondly, wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

“Of course,” he says, sprinkling a smattering of barely-there presses of his lips across Donghae’s chest, looking back over his shoulder afterward. “Thanks.”

“Hmmn.” To his side, Donghae spots the tube Henry grabbed, impressed that he’s breaking out the good stuff while hoping that there isn’t anything unusual he’s got in mind that they haven’t discussed yet. _Nah, probably not,_ Donghae thinks. _Not his style._

Henry stops right next to them, his knees warming Donghae’s side where he kneels. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Ryeowook simply says, wriggling for a second, and how are they speaking in secrets already?

Grinning wider than ever, Henry winks at Donghae before making his way behind Ryeowook. That calms him.

He comes back to himself fully with the force of a meteor hitting the ground, stroking up and down Ryeowook’s back, careful not to get in the way. Something blooms in his chest, too big to be contained. It was love consuming him from the inside out. It was _thank you for existing, thank you for being with me, thank you for thinking I’m something special._ He didn’t dare ask for more, couldn’t imagine Ryeowook losing all sense around him the same way. Not sure if he even _wanted_ that.

He’ll take what he can get while he can. Doesn’t matter if it hurts him in the end. Nothing’s hurting right now, after all, unless Ryeowook being too beautiful with his eyes closed and his mouth hanging slack counts.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, bent over Donghae, who almost forgets about the movements of Henry’s wrist between the sight of the kisses he sprinkles over Ryeowook’s back and the feeling of Ryeowook sucking at the skin at the bottom of his ribcage, harder and softer, almost rhythmical with an occasional off-beat bite. Nothing’s ever been more frustrating than this wait, but Donghae’s not on steady ground yet here.

 _Yet._ That word is a nice thought. Not a one-off, but a future, however bumpy it may be. (He hasn’t decided whether to believe that thought, but it’s a very pleasant one.)

He didn’t notice much of anything until Ryeowook’s fingers were already resting on his bottom lip. He opens his mouth, tasting the salt and tang of one, granting permission with a groan and a quick nod.

Faint musk lingers on them, gone the instant Donghae’s mouth fully takes hold of them, sucking lightly, finding the pad of Ryeowook’s index finger with his tongue. He loves the way Ryeowook gasps and curses when he does that, when he runs the tip of his tongue in lines and circles over that exquisitely sensitive spot. Ryeowook's head rests in the middle of his chest now, turning a small patch of skin hot and cold as Donghae switches to broad strokes over both, hot and cold as he stops to watch Henry drop kisses over the small of his back.

There was something to all this, the yarn a little more tangled than it seemed at first. Not the same type of thing, but there’s a realization creeping in that Henry had fallen into a pattern with him - keeping his distance. Their sort-of-rivalry (though, looking at the results, it couldn’t really be called that, and the whole thing’s a little funny when he stops to think about it) somehow brought out a certain tenderness that he hadn’t seen in his friend in something like… a couple of years, come to think of it.

Henry pulls away entirely with a grin. “All yours. For now.” Ryeowook makes a half-hearted protest as he sits up. Breath catching in his throat, Donghae tries to say something, though anticipation has left him with nothing. Again. They lock eyes and all he can think is _oh fuck yes._ The distraction of finding that hungry look on Ryeowook’s face, a hundred times stronger than when they were dancing around each other, makes the gel being slathered on his cock and the teeth scraping along his knee catch him by surprise.

 _Henry can be so considerate_ , Donghae thinks with affection - once he _can_ think again _._ That ability keeps wavering.

Ryeowook moves with Donghae’s accidental motion, seeming a lot less caught off guard. Then, Henry’s mouth moves right up to his ear, and Donghae’s determined to find out later what he says, because Ryeowook’s eyes fall closed and his thighs squeeze Donghae’s waist, just once, briefly but with considerable strength. As though he didn’t mean to.

His fingers rest lightly on Donghae's knee, seemingly more for balance than support as he sinks down. It’s the hardest thing in the world to open his eyes, but Donghae _needs_ to record this into memory. Ryeowook stops, pressed warm against him. Donghae takes his hand. There’s so much to learn and he can wait because all of that is waiting for him.

By saying yes, he gets all those chances he never thought he could have.

“Oh _fuck_ ” slips out of his mouth easy as breathing, and nearly as often, too, with Ryeowook levering himself up and down on his cock, agonizingly slow. It’s- He- Heat, friction, the way he moves, it sounds obvious to say that the reality is better, but it _is,_ leaving Donghae a mess of jumbled thoughts and sensation. He dares to touch, to feel the motion of muscle and skin, to convey his wonder in the only way he can right now.

Ryeowook’s strength is beautiful. He increases the force of his bouncing, nearly dislodging himself from the sloppy kisses he’s twisted his head back to share with Henry, the rolls of his hips pushing Donghae into the mattress again and again. Donghae moves with him and against him and towards him, however little that might be possible, rubbing his stomach a couple of times, then wrapping his fingers around his cock. Even a few lazy pulls seem to provoke a fresh round of frenzy and some lovely high moans that spur Donghae to stroke in earnest.

Patience doesn’t come easily to him at the moment. He grits his teeth to avoid making any demands he’ll regret. He craves- everything, if everything means more of this, more lightning strikes of carnal pleasure and an incredible view of his own personal perfection.

What Henry’s doing isn’t visible anymore once his head dips below Ryeowook’s shoulder, but their pleased noises mix harmoniously and Ryeowook’s slowing down and _squeezing_ now, _fuck,_ and it’s _good_ , it’s all so good that Donghae’s forgotten everything else.

A lull. Frustrating, but he can catch his breath. Ryeowook shifts his legs around while Henry appears next to Donghae again, looking pleased with himself as he settles in on his side. He noses at Donghae’s cheek, moves closer, closer still, takes one peck after another. He stays too close, looking so _happy,_ which makes Donghae happy too. Lying down, Henry leans his head against Donghae’s, and Donghae leans back.

He finds that Henry’s cute again, now that they’re not in competition anymore. Such a relief to return to that.

A light push into Donghae’s abdomen is the only warning before Ryeowook starts back up. The takeoff is quicker this time, and Donghae’s hand falls away, his wrist sliding against Ryeowook’s, up and down. The texture feels good in a different way. He moves to feel the soft skin of Ryeowook’s hip again with the back of his hand, fascinated. That texture’s faintly tacky now from the first hints of sweat. Henry grabs Donghae’s hand before he can move it again.

He looks up at Henry, about to ask, but Henry grabs his left hand as well. Donghae’s breath skips a beat as soon as he understands. His arms are being moved up above his head and he not only goes with that, he gets himself there all the faster, Henry’s hold slipping for a second. His thumbs circle the outer edges of Donghae’s palms, and he nips the top of Donghae’s ear.

“Could tie you down,” he says in a low voice, sultry and blatantly erotic. “Can’t move, can’t do anything.” Simple words that have Donghae arching up, wishing they were true. “I could be mean… Make it so you can’t see?”

The question makes it sound like an offer, and Ryeowook’s squeezing his cock again, and he leaps from slightly over halfway to nearly there and Henry’s weight across his chest is pushing him further into the mattress, his grip moving from Donghae’s hands to his wrists, and he squeezes his eyes shut and keeps thinking about his words and it’s _too much_.

He’s never been more glad to have used the willpower it took to get all those words out. Embarrassing, but so, so worth it. _Toomuchtoomuch_ but that’s exactly what he wants. His moans sound too loud in his ears.

Henry moves off him, giving him a clear view of Ryeowook again, then pulls his wrists together, bearing his weight down where they’re crossed. Amazing what an extra pair of hands can do. It’s so close to his fantasy, so close but a million times better, though his coordination’s more lacking than he’d realized. He’s mixing up sounds, too, but it doesn’t matter right now, nothing else matters.

Muttering what might be encouragement, Ryeowook squeezes more and more often between bounces that Donghae thrusts up to meet halfway. Just like that, feeling held down, completely overtaken, he goes tumbling over the edge with a hoarse shout.

For a while, everything is good and happy and nothing is wrong. He lies there, gulping down huge breaths. His own sounds of stretching and contentment make it harder than before to hear their murmuring, and though he opens his eyes partway to look, it doesn’t bother him or fill him with curiosity like before. Ryeowook leans back to give Henry a peck and then says, “Just a moment,” sounding a little out of breath himself. That doesn’t bother him either, but---

Before embarrassment’s had time to set in, Ryeowook’s hovering over him, touches the tips of their noses together, takes Donghae’s bottom lip between his own, extraordinarily gentle. They stay like that for a count of three times Donghae’s heart tries to leap out of his chest. Until they separate, and even after, his stomach’s doing somersaults at Ryeowook’s blatant affection, leaving a quick, grazing peck on his chin as he moves away.

 _This is great,_ Donghae thinks. His face hurts a little from how big he’s smiling and his breaths get longer, with more humming.

The first wisps of wanting to turn onto his side bubble up when Ryeowook throws himself down on his back right next to Donghae, accidentally kicking him in the process as he’s pulling Henry down on top of him.

 “Be careful! That hurt!” Donghae complains. Henry rubs Donghae’s knee and Ryeowook rubs the side of his thigh, both without turning to look at him. Though neither spot is where it hurts, that makes him feel better anyway.

Even when they’re already wrapped up in each other.

Lingering memory is the only thing that can account for Donghae’s chin still tingling faintly. He picks up the invisible rhythm, content to follow along for now. Henry’s smile meets Ryeowook’s drive and that’s all for them to handle. One, closer. Two, hold. Three, up. Four, hold. Henry kisses like they’ve got all the time in the world, heedless of Ryeowook’s coaxing and groaning. Now that Donghae’s not caught up in that storm, he can almost pinpoint the moment when hints in body language and touch aren’t enough.

Five, touch. Six, push. “Come on, hurry up,” Ryeowook says, demanding and plaintive at once. Rejoining the flow now is a must. Donghae feels it in his bones when he reaches towards the nightstand.

“Just a second,” Henry pants, a perfect seven and eight. Donghae returns his earlier consideration by placing a condom packet in his hand. Henry mouths thanks at him while ripping it open, making Donghae feel inordinately pleased with himself. Next, he puts the tube of gel next to them, the pull to touch Ryeowook growing stronger.

He doesn’t yet, too comfortable where he is. This pillow’s his favorite one. Marker’s not good for pillows, though. Makes them smell weird.

Ryeowook whines in the way Donghae’s already learned means impatience. _So cute._ That gives Donghae the energy to roll over to get close enough to nose at Ryeowook’s upper arm, brushing his cheek over it as well. Energy’s used up and he lies back down to watch, closer than before.

He hasn’t come down so far that the sight of them molded together leaves him unaffected, or maybe it never would. They move together in such a fluid way that it hardly makes sense, adjusting to and making space for each other. Ryeowook holds his own knees to his chest to start, dropping the hold bit by bit until his until his heels rest on the backs of Henry’s thighs. Starting with hardly anything, each thrust of Henry’s is goes farther than the last until his usual pause. That’s when the spell is broken, Ryeowook moving forcefully beneath him, whining with impatience again.

“You like me that much, huh?” Henry says in a quiet voice. Because Donghae decided that now would be a good time to stroke Ryeowook’s hair, he sees the exact moment the top of Ryeowook’s ear turns red.

“Tease,” Ryeowook bites out. “I do. What’re you going to do about it?” Henry smirks. _Damnit_ , will that ever stop being hot?

“Whatever you want me to,” he says, his confident tone giving way to longing and affection. The jester’s mask drops fully and the tenderness comes out when he’s entwined with Ryeowook, showing that vulnerable side that was hard to get at nowadays. Seeing it now is no less amazing than the first time. There’s a sort of ache to it. Ryeowook must see it too, because he reaches up to cup Henry’s cheek. _Your heart is so big. You’re so wonderful._

“Fuck me already,” Ryeowook finally replies, with all the confidence that Henry’s dropped. A nod, then they’re an earthquake of motion, moving together, and Donghae’s not physically being moved but there’s this _jolt_. He kind of wishes he was. He wants to be moving and moved, too, wants to be entangled in the angles and curves, but that’s a step too far right now. These gasps of Ryeowook’s aren’t all his, but they _are_ still his, not that it could make sense to anyone else.

Someone’s phone buzzes. By unspoken agreement, they all ignore it.

Donghae gets this notion, sometimes, that Ryeowook knows more than he lets on. Not all that important to think about at the moment. Ryeowook’s left hand is clutching the sheets, so Donghae takes it in his own instead.

He feels heavy-limbed and affectionate, clambering up onto his knees to leave light kisses along the length of Henry’s shoulder, on the apple of his cheek, and one brief peck to his lips before Ryeowook’s tugging on his hand and whimpering, a desperate sound unlike any he’s made since they got here. (Secretly, Donghae thinks it’s the best one.) His eyes look like they’re asking for something for an instant, squeezing shut again right after that, his hold going slack and whatever it was, it’ll have to wait for another time, it seems.

Donghae falls back to watch them for now, keeping his and Ryeowook’s fingers interlaced. Not going that far. He hears whispers pass between them, sees Ryeowook’s hand move between their bodies, but makes no move to get involved any further, doesn’t feel the need. Henry’s mouth moves along Ryeowook’s jaw, then dips down to his neck. Low murmurs in the tone of praise, the words muddled, are all that can be heard in the spaces that Ryeowook’s harsh breaths leave open.

Donghae swears it’s not possible to get tired of watching Ryeowook’s face, watching him strain to get closer with his entire body. Fascinating. Too beautiful for words. Donghae’s not the one making it happen, but like this, he can feel it too, feel the rising swell of a wave poised to crash down building and building inside.

That crash is muffled by Henry’s mouth, two voices pitching upwards out of sync, the sound exquisite in its discord.

Too bad for Donghae that, ironically, he’s ready to go again after watching. He’s never seen it from the outside like that. Makes him think that this whole arrangement really might work out after all. They separate carefully, Henry’s arms visibly shaking for a moment before he flops sort of backwards and sort of at an angle, both of them panting, some of Ryeowook’s hair sticking to the side of his face in messy, sweaty strands.

“Gorgeous,” Donghae mumbles into the silence. It engulfs his comment, though not uncomfortably. He idly strokes himself while he tries to figure out if anything else is likely to happen.

Ryeowook looks positively blissful, making these little chuckles that are barely more than a jump of his chest that happen to make a sound. His fingers rest so lightly on Donghae’s hip that it almost tickles, a constantly nearly-there sentation.

"Henry," he says, sounding as if he was reluctant to leave a wonderful dream.

"Mn?"

"Grab me a hand towel?"

"Ah. Yeah." Despite his cheerful tone, Henry gets up with little of his earlier energy, patting Ryeowook's ankle twice before turning around. Surprisingly, he's still graceful when he slides himself off the bed, and Donghae follows him with his eyes until he walks out of sight. After half a tick, he does half a turn onto his side to face Ryeowook again. He hopes his desperation doesn't come through in his lingering kisses to Ryeowook's shoulder and upper arm, except he kind of hopes it does, that he'll get some sort of sign.

“Hold on,” Ryeowook says, hissing and rubbing at his thigh. Donghae helps with the other one for a second, leaving his hand right next to the uppermost crease, not sure yet whether to touch.

Another thing Donghae thinks is impossible is to have too many kisses. Ryeowook makes soft happy sighs and tired but interested “mm” sounds as they kiss, sloppy and loose and slow. Donghae’s mind is already racing ahead, craving more of whatever he can get.

 _Now_ he touches.

He’s not so far gone yet that he missed the sounds around him, tapping whose source moves, a creak, a sound that’s something like a pocket of air, if those made a sound. There’s new warmth around him, next to him, pressing against him with new pressure. It’s not his move that’s next; he’s waiting to be led because he wants to.

Led he is. Pushed into the other warmth, Ryeowook’s fingertips firm on his chin, and Henry takes over where he left off. They kiss for what feels like forever, like longer than they ever have. Definitely longer than they have in years. It’s become habit to skip ahead, but Ryeowook as good as gave an order, and his breathing has quickened, a slight change, but noticeable. For Donghae, that’s more than enough. He moves as he’s repositioned, more reflex than thought, touching a steady trail down Henry’s side, over his hip and along his inner thigh, as much for its own sake as to confirm where he’s been placed.

He takes Henry’s bottom lip between his teeth, holds lightly, gradually increasing the pressure. A short, sharp moan is followed by the quietest desperate sound. Only long experience allows him to distinguish the source of each. A subsonic hum vibrates under his skin, and he’d almost rather be unaffected, but he just doesn’t have that in him.

Feeling the rhythm put in a pause, he stops, turns, looks for guidance.

“Come on, you know what I want,” Ryeowook says. Maybe he feels like he’s owed something for having this kept from him for so long, or he just likes to watch and there’s nothing more to it and no point in overthinking it. That he meant what he said a few days ago is hardly surprising.

Tempting to play coy, just to fluster him, but Donghae doesn’t. This time. “Being bossy again already?” He’s smiling big and affectionate as he says it.

Ryeowook looks positively smitten as he lies on his arm and shoots back, “That’s right. Are you complaining?” Donghae huffs out a laugh.

“Not one bit.”

Henry’s knee or ankle or something taps Donghae’s thigh. Right. “You up for it?” Donghae asks.

Excitement. A glimmer of challenge. “Hell yeah,” Henry says.

“Showoff,” Donghae mutters, but it’s with affection. He’s no better himself, flipping Henry over perhaps a little roughly. Though Ryeowook admonishes him to be more careful, Henry doesn’t complain, propping himself up on his elbows and knees without a word in protest. Donghae pokes his side, and then he does complain a little, but also grabs and hands back a plastic packet, so it works out in his favor.

The process is automatic to the point of feeling mindless, gone by in a blur. “I’m good, go,” Henry says before he’s gotten the chance to check, so Donghae does. He pushes in carefully, vigilant for signs of discomfort or tension, but also thinking about how he loves the goopy gel, he’d buy a case of it if he could. It’s good stuff and it lasts a long time - the whole time, often enough.

Fuck, Henry looks so damn good like this, his shoulders and his back and those gentle arcs at his waist, spread out like a feast, his ass yielding in Donghae's grip. Ryeowook watching them intently heightens his awareness of every sensation, his senses seeming more wide open than ever. He looks over to the spectator in question. Ryeowook's slow approving nod gives Donghae a rush like lightning shooting through his veins, like magma pooling low in his stomach.

His movements are a bit exaggerated, but only a bit. As he picks up speed, he touches every place his eyes admired, known territory in the best way, finally settling on Henry’s hips for the time being.

“He’s got a great ass,” Ryeowook says, measured and sultry all at once, running his index finger over one gloriously full curve.

“He really does,” Donghae says, his voice low with appreciation, punctuating his statement with a light smack on the opposite side. Henry moans. “Don’t tell me you’ve been into that the whole time?”

“When it’s light,” Henry says, breathy and tempting, which makes no sense because they’re already fucking. Then understanding hits Donghae, and he slowly pulls out most of the way. He hits the same spot one more time with the same force. Notes with fascination that Henry’s left thigh twitches when he does that, not to mention his soft curse. Thrusts back in with more force, turning the cursing louder. It doesn’t seem like it could get any better, which is the same thing he always thinks, but glancing over to Ryeowook’s keen interest proves him wrong this time.

There’ll be plenty of time to play around with that another day. Shifting around, he lets muscle memory take over to- _there,_ that sharp cry tells him he’s been successful as surely as the _justright_ feeling that his world has narrowed to.

Henry’s right shoulder dips, half his arm gone from view. Focus widening that little bit more, Donghae watches Ryeowook crawling over to him at the head of the bed, laying on his side. The background track is composed of their breaths and these very soft, almost inaudible little smacking sounds, and Donghae kind of sort of feels like he shouldn’t be happy about that, but he _is_ , actually.

It’s almost quiet. Small adjustments. He remains watchful after each one.

“Oh my fucking _god!_ ” Donghae’s proud to recognize that one. Any further sounds were sandpaper grunts that could've been words, though Donghae couldn't tell, only knew that he wanted to keep slamming those sounds out of him, wanted to put on a good show, really wanted, more than anything, to reach the peak that he was so close to. Ryeowook looking at them, heated and possessive, sharpened the edges of Donghae's want into a high moan that spoke of his imminent unraveling. He wants to give and show all the pieces he has within him, offer himself up and be wanted, _needed-_

Every last bit of his breath is pushed out of him in a long, stuttering moan that seems insufficient compared to the explosion he feels.

Bliss.

Euphoric, clearheaded, and _exhausted_. Of course it’s exhausting; it’s been a while since he’s gone at it twice in the same day - hour? less? - but god, he doesn’t regret a thing. Thigh muscles complaining the whole way, he struggles towards the space that’s left for him to lie on his back. His life is _great._

At the sound of a content sigh, he flops his head over to Ryeowook’s direction, who’s walking his fingers along his arm. It’s physically hard to return his smile, but emotionally easy.

“I’m looking forward to finding every single sensitive spot on _your_ body,” Ryeowook murmurs. Another thing Donghae’s learned is that the undercurrent of laughter in his voice doesn’t mean he’s not serious. “We’re going to have such a good time. You’ll let me know when?” A flat hum is all the response Donghae can manage. Flop to his left. Henry’s a boneless lump on his other side, looking worn out at last. Probably about to fall asleep.

Center. Donghae’s perfectly happy to lie here and wonder what comes next. Maybe a shower. Definitely not alone.


End file.
